


One Act of Consecration

by RurouniHime



Series: Zero Sum series [2]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spy, Character Death, Conspiracy, Explosions, F/M, Guns, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Partnership, Psychological Trauma, Rescue, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-27
Updated: 2011-07-27
Packaged: 2017-10-21 19:39:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/228991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RurouniHime/pseuds/RurouniHime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s bleeding. He can feel it soaking through his shirt, damp across his hip.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Act of Consecration

**Author's Note:**

> Title borrowed from Nine Inch Nails’ song Ringfinger.

He ditches the boat in a tangle of broken coral and washed up mangrove roots, and thanks every god he knows that it was just one of the Caribbean islands this time and not some country halfway across the world.

Kane still lives in Miami. Jared staggers up the beach, hoping. It’s all he has the extra energy to do.

He knows what he must look like. Once he clears the shorefront, Jared snags a coat from a clothesline hanging too close to a fence. A few minutes later, an easy pass through a café patio gains him the cell phone of a girl too engrossed in her book to notice.

An hour or ten minutes: however long it takes him to reach the nearest park, it’s too long. He’s bleeding. He can feel it soaking through his shirt, damp across his hip. The Florida air is muggy and slick, pressing in all around. The mumble of the sea, boats racing over it in the afternoon sunshine, adds to the weight.

Jared pulls his stolen coat tight and staggers into the side of the park’s kiosk. It’s boarded up; too early in the year for ice cream. There’s a slice of darkness to his right, a storm drain echoing with the rush of water somewhere deep. Beyond, trees sway. Jared can see a dog running across the grass after the ball its owner has thrown.

He manages the number in two tries. It rings five times, then someone picks up and doesn’t say a word.

Jared sucks in a breath. _Kane, Jeff Morgan’s back._

Silence. Then—

 _Where are you?_

The relief he feels is substantial. _Coral Reef Park, under the kiosk._

Again, a pause. _Who is this?_

 _Jake Abel._ It’s the only name Kane ever knew him by. Jared squeezes his eyes shut against the fire in his side. _Better hurry or there’ll be nothing to pick up._

He snaps the phone shut and drops it down the storm drain. He should move, gain some distance. Instead, he slides down the wall until the ground stops him, and forces himself to keep breathing.

Keep breathing.

**

The Agency is in a cement block of a building, in between bank branches and office towers. The facades are lined with large glass panes, cleaned like clockwork and mirrored to people on the street. The foyer is set up like that of a law firm in case anyone accidentally wanders in, and is the only floor with real windows. There are two floors above it and four below ground.

The air conditioning blasts over Jared’s head just inside the door. His hair is shorn off, close to his scalp. Kane wasn’t stingy with the gear and metal clinks in the bag slung over his shoulder. Beneath it, wads and wads of cash, and the keys to Kane’s Ford. Jared heads for the fire alarm on the east wall, bends his elbow and smashes it into the box. Somewhere above, five elevators are freezing in place, and the doors to the stairwells are clicking off of their sensors.

At first the reaction is slow. People stop, look up. Freeze in place with folders in hand. Then the exodus begins. The sound of cursing, exasperation. Non-essential personnel hurry past Jared, streaming toward the double doors. Jared waits for the trickle to become a flood, then edges along the wall, picks the lock on the door to the east stairwell and heads down.

**

He wakes expecting stone walls, the odor of fermentation, and Jensen. But the fingers touching his skin are too delicate.

Jared grabs a thin wrist and the woman jerks, eyes wide. She has red hair in a loose braid. Jared clenches hard and she gasps.

 _Wait, I’m checking your wound!_ She says it fast, like she expected this. Her fingers twitch. _You’re at Chris’. I promise you’re safe._

Jared’s eyesight blurs: she becomes a hazy red shape. _Who are you?_

Another hand closes over the top of his. _I’m Danni. I’m not your enemy._

He’ll decide that. She’s slight, but he has no chance against her; his body is an incoherent hub of pain. Stiff. Sore. He feels clammy and overheated. He says it again: _Who are you?_

 _I used to be an army medic._ She has a quiet, soothing voice; Jared can’t read it. He wonders if she used to be something else, too. She pats his arm. Her hands really are cold. _Just have to make sure you aren’t dying._

But Jared thinks he is: everything swarms back in together, the pictures rearrange themselves into proper memories, and he squeezes his eyes shut.

Jensen’s with _them_.

**

The east stairwell is almost empty. The other stairs are closer to the exits. On the second floor down, a tech pushes past Jared, rushing upward along the handrail. He steps aside, lets her go by.

He reaches the door to Sublevel Three and crouches down to jimmy the lock. As promised, the retinal scanner is down. There’s little chance he’ll ever be able to thank the guy responsible, but if he could, there would be wine.

After a few seconds, the bolt gives and Jared backs up, gives the card slide a hard kick that sends it flying off the wall and skidding down the stairs. Another two kicks to the door and it slams inward. The fire alarm is blaring just inside, all flashing red lights. Jared pulls the wrench out of his coat pocket and smashes the alarm. He slaps duct tape over the catch of the door and lets it swing shut.

He can hear footsteps, running people. The sound of voices. No one is in this hallway yet. They’ll have procedures to follow, other floors to check, fire engines to sort out. Not all of them will leave. Eventually, someone will see him on the building’s surveillance. He has about twenty minutes before the place is swamped with people looking for him. Jared pockets the wrench, pulls out Jensen’s Browning, and makes his way down the hall.

**

He’s half asleep when Kane comes in. The man stares at him like he’s looking at a ghost. _Never expected to see your face again._

 _If I could have, I’d have left you out of this._

Kane smiles. Jared remembers the half-tilt of it. Then the expression slips. _Is Carlson still alive?_

Another wound, not knowing. It gapes wide and Jared feels every inch.

 _I need your help,_ he finally says. _We need it._

Kane comes closer. He pulls a chair forward and straddles it, facing the backrest. _You got it. Tell me._

**

Danni, short for Danneel. She’s good: quick, careful hands. She doses him with painkillers, talks to him about keeping his injured rib immobile and tells him about a sister he’s not sure is real.

He was trained for intel, too; he knows the signs. Sometimes he’s certain about her. Sometimes he has no idea.

When they’re all together, Kane looks at her in the same way that Jensen looked at him, the same way that may have gotten Jensen killed.

**

The lower floors smell like a cavern. In the corridor outside the briefing rooms, Jared takes Hodge down with an uppercut to his jaw. Buckley barely gets a chance to turn around before Jared lays him out as well. He lifts Hodge’s 9mm, then removes the clip from Buckley’s weapon and chucks it through the door into one of the rooms.

The next agent to turn the corner is Aycox, and Jared is in no shape to face close quarters combat. She gets a shot to the knee and the butt of the Browning across her skull. The coded alarm begins to blare, cutting Jared’s time limit in half. He takes the corridors at a run, his side a mass of fire.

**

Kane sits by the bed and tells him about Jeff Morgan, particulars Jared has never heard: Matt Barr, the trainee agent who was with him, the sabotage to the beta surveillance team. Things only a top agent would know how to do.

Like Jared, Morgan was sent after hostages. Easy recon before the extraction team went in.

 _Wasn’t supposed to be a bad one. I mean, they let him take a fucking newbie._ The final word is venomous from Kane’s mouth.

 _He dead, too?_

 _At this point?_ Kane shakes his head. _Who knows?_ He pauses. _They told us Jeff tipped off the captors. Got himself killed for trusting the wrong people._

 _You believed them?_

Kane shrugged. _Steve did, eventually. The evidence was sound. I wasn’t so sure._

Jared stares at Kane. _That’s why. Why you retired._

Kane’s eyes glitter. He takes a drink from the beer he’s holding and doesn’t answer.

**

Jared hits Sec Ops without enough rounds in the Browning and takes a side kick to the center of his chest before he can get everyone down. His assailant is Rolston, and he fights like mad until Jared rams him into a desk and chokes him until he collapses.

Jared slumps down beside him and drags air back into his lungs. His rib may have gone again; he can’t tell. And Rolston will be a problem if he ever comes to. Jared weighs it for three seconds and decides he can’t waste the ammo he has left. He’ll have to find some way to secure the door, lock everyone in when he leaves.

He reloads, then gets himself to his feet, to a console where he can locate cell access. Two cells in B block are occupied, one in D, and an entire section in E has been rendered inaccessible to anyone without Brown’s clearance.

E block it is, then.

**

He spends five days in Kane’s guestroom. Jared is intermittently conscious for three of those days. On the fourth, he slides the pills into his cheek and spits them out again as soon as Danni leaves. He wants to see what he’s capable of.

He actually stays awake for a straight ten hours, and manages to tip out of bed and into the chair on his own.

Danni tells him his fever is completely gone. That he’s a lucky fucker. Exact words.

Jared forces his appetite back. He asks about Jensen’s bag and Kane brings it to him. Everything is still inside. Jared touches Jensen’s Browning with one finger and tries not to think.

**

Kane frowns. _You’re serious?_

Jared gapes at him. _You think I’m just going to leave him—_

 _No, no._ Kane puts up a hand. Grimaces outright and pushes Jared back down on the bed. _Lie down before you gut yourself again, asshole._

Jared tries not to cough, to show how much movement still hurts, but it’s a losing battle and Kane knows it. Danni stands in the corner, arms crossed, one foot cocked up against the wall. Jared stopped trying to read her expressions yesterday, and she’s stopped offering him painkillers.

 _Of course he can’t stay there._ Kane runs fingers through his hair. He looks mutinous. _But you get right down to it, the place is a fucking fortress. Jake, he might not even be there anymore. There are dozens of places they—_

 _All the better to hurry then._

 _They’ll see you coming._ Kane points a finger at him from where he sits beside the bed. _From a mile away, son. And a fucking beanie and aviators ain’t gonna cut it._

Jared looks him right in the eye. _Cut my hair then. Should buy enough time to get me past the front door. At least._

Kane’s gaze bores into him. Assesses. He shakes his head. _No. No, not yet. You’re falling apart._

Jared grips the strands of patience he still possesses. _I know how to get in. You know how to get in._

Kane hunches forward on the chair. _Look. First order of business is getting you on your feet again. Then we’ll talk about Steve._

Jared struggles upright but Kane interrupts him, presses him back once more. _You think I’ve been sitting on my ass this whole time? Fuck you, Abel, he’s my friend too. Stuff’s in the works._

 _Like what?_

Kane quirks a smile. _Like getting you money._

The Agency will have frozen his and Jensen’s accounts as soon as they went AWOL. But Kane has a friend. _Name’s Misha. Used to write encryption for the CIA. He can get in and out of your accounts, no problem. He’s a ghost._

 _You trust this guy?_

Kane shrugs. _I won’t tell him more than he needs to know._

Jared stares at the bedspread over his knees and considers. _Go for Steve’s holdings._

 _Go for both,_ Kane counters. Jared shakes his head.

 _No, I’m out. They’ll be watching my accounts. Any activity and they’ll know I’m able-bodied. If they’ve got Steve locked away, though…_

Kane nods. His mouth sets itself into a thin line. _Steve’s it is._

**

The Agency trains first in offense, then in defense. Subterfuge, languages, hand-to-hand combat and weapons application are physically taxing; Jared slept well those months.

The real taxation comes later. The training for extracting information from unwilling subjects is more exhausting than anything ever done on a mat or in the shooting range. The techniques are swift and efficient, designed to get results. Torture resistance comes next, while the previous lessons are still fresh.

Jared knows all their moves. He knows even better the ones with the ability to break a well-trained spy.

**

If Misha ever comes to the house, Jared misses it. But the money shows up within a day.

Jared gets out of bed on Sunday, wobbles, and ends up on his feet. The air in the room is just this side of too warm, and Jared can feel the moisture in it. Danni purses her lips and flips him off.

 _Hubris,_ she snaps. _Fucking males._

Jared picks up the shirt Kane left for him and puts it on. It hurts; he goes slowly. Danni watches for an entire five seconds, then stalks out of the room. Jared hears hissed conversation, Kane’s lower tones. The front door slams.

Kane wanders into the doorway carrying a beer. _She’s right. Fucking male._

Jared stares him down until he leaves.

**

Jensen always carried the kit, but Jared is the one who taught him how to use it. Picking locks isn’t part of standard training; they opt to simply blow the locks off with tiny explosives or melt them away with corrosives.

Jared hasn’t had to use his skills much in the name of work, but when he does, he always appreciates the finesse of an old-fashioned set of metal files.

 _Where’d you learn to do this?_ Jensen looks skeptical, a hand threaded through his hair. His eyes are fixed on Jared’s fingers, the click and snick of the tools in his hands.

The file slips between his fingers. Jared catches it, barely, and bites back a curse.

 _Wasn’t much to do in my hometown._ The bolt thunks open at last and he steps back, waves Jensen forward. _Your turn._

**

He wakes, certain that Jensen is dead. He can’t remember the dream.

Danni runs in, hair tousled from sleep. She says his name, asks questions. Checks his wound. Jared answers dully until she stops speaking.

She makes him take a pill and sits with him, covering her yawns. Jared realizes he must have shouted. He turns away from her and stares at the wall.

There’s no time. No more time.

**

On Tuesday, he dresses and walks into the kitchen. Kane is laying out sandwich fixings while Danni eats a bag of salted potato chips at the kitchen island. Kane looks at him piercingly and sets down the sliced ham.

 _We need to review building schematics first. Scope the joint out._

Jared shakes his head. _Between the two of us, we know everything we need to know._

 _Jake, we don’t even know if he’s there. They could have him anywhere._

 _Then I’ll find out._

The look Kane gives him is skeptical. _You are in no shape to be doing anything like that._

 _I’m well enough._

Kane shakes his head. _No. Steve would kill me for letting you back in._

Jared knows he won’t budge. He’s seen the same set to Jensen’s jaw. Jared exhales. He’s prepared, even when he hates what he’s prepared to do. He pulls the gun from Danneel’s hip and grabs her, jerking her in close, away from Kane. Shoves the barrel against her temple.

Kane’s weapon is out even before Danni’s cry silences. _Jake._

 _Give me what I need,_ Jared says, feeling calm and sick at the same time. In his grip, Danni breathes unevenly.

 _You won’t kill her._ Kane’s eyes are stony.

 _I have to get him out,_ Jared murmurs, and cocks the gun. Danneel’s skin ripples into gooseflesh beneath his fingers. _Kane, you need to understand. I_ need _you to understand._

For too long, Jared holds Danni off-center, off-balance, watching every tic in Kane’s face. Danni’s breath comes fast, in and out, in and out. Kane’s gaze sharpens and all the fight sloughs off of him. He raises both hands, the gun pointed ceiling-ward.

 _Okay,_ he breathes. _Okay. Just… Please let her go._

Jared does.

**

There’s an agent outside E Block. Jared shoots out the light, then slams the guy into the door he’s standing in front of. He checks for a pulse but can’t feel it over the vibration from the alarms and his own heartbeat. It’s getting hard to breathe. Emergency lighting flickers on, bathing the door in ghostly red. Jared sets to work on the lock, trying to keep his attention steady.

**

 _The entrance is public._ Kane adjusts his glasses. _We can—_

 _No._

Kane stares. _What do you mean, no?_

Jared tucks Jensen’s Glock inside his coat, Kane’s handgun in his boot. _You’re not coming._

 _The hell I’m not._

He shakes his head. _You are not coming._

 _These fuckers killed Morgan. Probably Barr, too. There is no way I’m going to let them kill Steve._

Jared looks Kane right in the eye. _Get out of the country. Take her and get as far away from me as you can. You’re not in this anymore._

On the other side of the room, Danni leans against the wall. Keeps her distance. Stares at him with inscrutable eyes. Kane is silent for a long moment. Then he glares Jared down. _Fire alarm’s not gonna do it. They won’t leave the underground levels for that._

He knows. It’s a fucking thorn in his side, and he’s been trying to convince himself that he can ignore it. _What do you suggest?_

Kane gives him a weird little smile. _Misha._

Jared frowns at Kane. _The main alarm below levels?_

The smile turns to a leer. _For that guy? Cake mix._

**

The agent directly outside the only occupied cell is Harmon. Jared forces himself not to blink as he levels Kane’s handgun.

Harmon’s sixth sense kicks in just before the shot. She drops to the floor and rolls, pulling her weapon and flattening herself to the wall. There’s a corner. Jared doesn’t have the shot.

“Abel?” Harmon calls, calm as the master thieves she emulates. “That you down there?”

He doesn’t answer; not enough air for it. She has yet to go for the comm, and Jared realizes it’s too far away, closer to him than to her. He aims his gun at the box instead and shoots it full of holes in a spatter of sparks. Harmon clicks her tongue. The sound bounces off the walls.

“Just gonna sit there, Jake? Till they come down to collect you?”

Jared digs in Jensen’s bag until he finds one of the grenades Kane gave him and the lock-pick kit. Small and black with a zipper. He pulls the pin from the grenade and waves it around the corner, fingers tight around the lever. Harmon fires immediately and Jared hisses as the round grazes his coat sleeve.

For a second, Harmon doesn’t make a sound. Then she laughs. “No fucking chance,” she says. “You’ll be killed too if—”

Jared pops the pin back in and launches Jensen’s lock-pick kit down the hall. He hears Harmon scrabble to her feet. Jared takes a quick breath, wheels around the corner, and fires two shots at her head. One goes wide, but the other hits. She sways for a second, then falls backward, mouth still open in surprise. Jared keeps his gun trained, but he can see the hole in her forehead.

He picks up Jensen’s kit when he gets to it and doesn’t look at Harmon’s glazing eyes as he passes to the occupied cell. He sets an ear to the door, but can’t make out any sound. Two minutes with the kit and the locks, and Jared hears the first bolt, and then the second, click back.

Jared shoves the door in and finds a body on the floor. It’s not Jensen. He registers too late, feels the rush just behind, and comes face to face with a standard issue 9mm.

The gun jerks in Jensen’s hand. His eyes are wide, deeply shadowed. Jared expected it, _prayed_ for it, but… His fingers go lax on his weapon— Jensen lowers the gun— and then Jared’s awake again, beyond it, whirling. Checking the rest of the cell.

There’s no one else there.

Jensen is dirty, still in his clothes from the jungle. His hair is in disarray and there is a dark weariness dragging at his frame. He stares at Jared as if he’s never seen him before.

There’s nothing to say, though Jared tries. The alarms cut off suddenly and Jared turns back, training his gun on the antechamber, the gaping doorway beyond Harmon’s body. He edges out, clears the room again, then reaches into his belt and passes the Glock back to Jensen.

**

Their exit is not soundless. They barely make Sublevel Two before a vent starts pumping gas into the stairwell. Jared ducks down, pulling Jensen with him, and covers his mouth with his coat. Jensen, face tucked into the neck of his shirt, signals with his hands and Jared nods. They creep up the stairs practically on their bellies. Jensen keeps an eye out behind, Jared in front. It’s rough going: Jared’s side is beginning that slow pulse of heat again. The relief of finding Jensen is wearing off, adrenaline wavering away. Jared holds onto it with effort.

The door to Sublevel One bangs open and Jensen fires three shots over Jared’s head. A body tumbles over the railing and sails past them. Jared catches a glimpse of a gasmask, flailing arms. Jensen fires again. The shots are deafening in the stairwell. Jared hears the person who fell bang against the railing too soon and knows the agent stopped his own fall. He’ll be coming up behind. Hoping he dies on the way isn’t an available luxury.

Jared turns around, keeping his head below the lowering gas as best he can, and trains his weapon on the turn in the stairs. Jensen’s next shot ricochets off something metal and someone above shouts.

The agent who fell rounds the bend, gun in hand. Kevlar, most likely; Jared aims carefully for the knee and shoots the man down. His ears are ringing. He chambers another round— his last? Second to last?— but Jensen grabs him by the arm and hauls him upward. Jared’s side explodes in pain and he trips, landing hard on his hip. Jensen gets his hands under Jared’s arms and lifts. Jared can feel the warm press of the just-fired Glock through his coat.

The gas reaches them and Jensen lets out a string of coughs.

The stairs above are clear, for the most part: one agent lies unmoving, hung half over the railing, while another struggles weakly in the corner, moans muted behind her mask. Jared stifles his own coughs and keeps his weapon leveled on the recovering woman as they gain the landing.

Jensen moves quickly beyond the door— still agape with urgent voices on the other side. He reaches down, pulls the mask off the woman’s face and pushes it into Jared’s hand, then shoves Jared past him. “Go!”

Jared gets the mask on and takes the stairs to the ground floor as quickly as he can.

**

In the main lobby, Jensen wedges an elevator door open and Jared tosses two grenades down the shaft. Jensen hauls him behind a column, shoves Jared bodily to the ground and throws himself over him. The explosion rocks the entire building, upper and lower levels. The heat is searing. Black smoke boils upwards. Jared pushes Jensen upright and urges him toward the back exit.

**

He hopes Kane and Danni did what he told them to do. Hopes Misha’s cleared out of wherever he was. Doesn’t think about the disruption of lives. There’s no time to think.

**

Outside, the air is sweltering, blanched by the sinking sun. Jared yanks his mask off and reels. Steadies himself against the wall of the building. He feels like he’s run ten miles. His body is numb, something wrong with his entire left side, but he’s up. They’re out.

On the other side of the building, he can hear screaming fire engines and a lot of people. “Come on.”

He pushes off the wall but Jensen seizes him around the wrist and drags him to a halt. Turns him, none too gently.

“Jensen—”

 _“Jared?”_

He stops as Jensen’s hands climb over him; skate his shoulders, slide over his chest and down his sides, smoothing fabric, patting quickly. Jensen’s own shoulders twitch and his body stiffens up. His hands fix on Jared’s upper arms and tighten. Loosen. Tighten again. The gasmask bumps between them where it’s slung around his wrist.

“Are you…” Jensen’s words fade. He sways, raises disbelieving eyes from Jared’s torso to his face. “Jared?”

Jared can’t answer the fragility in Jensen’s gaze. “We—”

Jensen’s head jerks, eyes wide, intensely focused, and Jared flounders. Jensen’s hands rise, touch down on his newly shorn hair. His fingertips are as light as a breeze.

They have to leave. He has to make himself move, make Jensen move. “Jen, there’s no time.”

Still Jensen holds him in place, studying, poring over him like he’s some sort of artifact. Jared witnesses the shudder, feels it jitter through Jensen’s hands into his arms. Jensen abruptly meets his eyes again. “You okay?”

 _You here?_

Jared’s throat is dry. He nods. Twists free and grabs Jensen’s hand.

“Come on.”

~fin~


End file.
